


Why It Went Wrong

by jujukittychick



Series: Whyverse [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Infidelity, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:33:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8480998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujukittychick/pseuds/jujukittychick
Summary: Spike comes home to a note, just one word, “Why?”*Dark Version





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Influenced by this picture http://darkstarfic.com/why.jpg (a pencil writing the word “Why?” on notebook paper), a picture prompt at writers-toybox at LJ. I’ve decided to call this my Whyverse. There will be several “chapters” to this, each one being a different version on the theme so none are actually related. Currently I have three stories in mind ranging from incredibly dark and angst-y (I made myself cry writing it) to completely sweet and fluffy.  
> A/N 2: Ok, I found as I wrote this, I couldn’t end it that horribly, so it got a better ending than it was going to.
> 
> **This is not my normal writing style, I generally don’t do dark writing to this extent. This chapter will be the ONLY one like it, the rest will be a lot lighter, please read the warnings first, I will not tolerate flames because you didn’t take the time to read them.**
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the computer I'm typing this on and am making no money. The fandoms all belong to their respective creators and owners who *are* making money off them. I'm just doing this for my own fun and entertainment; in general, if you recognize something, I don't own it.
> 
> Beta: NONE! Any mistakes are mine, sorry

Spike bounced lightly up the steps, keys in his hand, humming one of his favorite Clash songs, his body vibrating with the excess adrenaline caused by the numerous fights he‘d had out on patrol. He paused just as he slid the key in the lock, noticing a scrap of paper taped over the peephole in the door. It looked like someone had torn the corner off a writing pad, just one word written in Xander’s messy handwriting.

_Why?_

“What the ‘ell? What’s the whelp up to now.” Opening the door, he muttered to himself as he tossed his keys in the dish on the pedestal next to it kept for just that purpose. “Oi, Xander, what’s with the note?” When no answer greeted him, he looked around the apartment, noticing what looked like a trail of paper scraps leading back toward the bedroom. Rolling his eyes, he bent and picked up the next piece, once again muttering under his breath. “Like a trail of bloody breadcrumbs, it is.”

_I gave you everything I had._

Spike looked around the apartment, only just noticing how completely quiet it was, the only sound that of the refrigerator cycling and the soft whir from the stationary fan in the bedroom he could just hear through the closed door. He looked at the CD tower with the odd collection of country and punk, then over to the bookshelf where numerous books of poetry were interspersed with sci-fi novels and comic books. Over on the coffee table sat his half-full ashtray next to an empty bottle of Jack and Twinkie wrappers. A mug on the kitchen counter was stained with congealed blood.

Concern beginning to blossom in his chest, he called out once more. “Xander? Where ya at, pet, this isn’t funny.” He stepped further into the room, scooping up the next bit of paper.

_I loved you more than anything._

Spike remembered the first time the boy had told him those words, the doubt and embarrassment that he fought through to voice them, how they‘d made love, not just fucked, for the first time. Remembered all the times they’d made love after that or just cuddled together on the couch. Remembered the first time Xander had let him feed from him, his blood as rich as the chocolate he ate so frequently and the feeling of “home” that had filled his body with each drop. “Wait, ‘loved‘? Xander?” He couldn’t help but pick up the next piece, growing ever closer to the closed bedroom, and knew that if his heart still beat, it would be racing.

 _So, why? Why did you fuck Buffy? Repeatedly!_ “

Oh fuck! Xander?” He’d never meant for it to happen. They’d just finished a really hard fight and one thing led to another and suddenly the two of them were just going at it. There was no emotion involved, just a physical release. It was supposed to be a one off thing, but it kept happening. He’d meant to tell Xander about it, confess, but how did one go about bringing something like that up. Apparently the boy had seen on his own. In hindsight, he had seemed more withdrawn the past couple weeks, but Spike had just figured it was about the newest job he had. He’d never taken the time to ask.

How was he supposed to tell Xander that he was afraid he’d hurt him if they had sex like he had with Buffy. He’d left bruises on her and she was the Slayer. Xander was only human, he could break so easily. He should have talked to him about it. He would soon, hopefully he hadn’t left, maybe he just went to crash at Willow’s, wait ‘til he could calm down. Spike picked up the last piece of paper outside the closed bedroom door, one hand resting on the doorknob as his nose twitched in recognition of some scent.

_I guess I was just a meal ticket to you. I leave you with the only thing you seem to want from me._

“Xander!” Suddenly the smell, diminished by the fan blowing towards the cracked bedroom window, registered and fear drilled through his non-beating heart as he slammed open the door…only to freeze just inside.

He had to blink repeatedly. His mind didn’t want to acknowledge what his eyes were seeing. If he’d still been human, he would’ve been in the bathroom losing everything he’d eaten all day, as it was he was still damn close.

In a fog, he moved closer to the scene before him, and that’s what it was, the whole thing, from the first note all the way to…this. The boy had planned it well.

Spike realized he was distracting himself, still unwilling to cope with the horror that was before him.

~~~

The call came while Giles was in the shower, washing off the latest batch of demon good he had acquired while on patrol. Scrubbing the towel over his hair, he automatically hit the “Play” button as he finished drying off. His movements froze as the cultured British voice filled the air.

“Rupert, it’s Spike. I’ve really bollixed it up this time. I…only thing left to do is the honorable thing. Please don’t let the girls see.”

“Bloody hell, what’s he done now?” But even as he spoke, Giles was throwing on clothes and heading out the door. He hadn’t missed the emotion lacing the words, and Spike only lost his Mockney accent when he was upset. Fingers tapping on the steering wheel, he prayed he wouldn’t be too late to fix whatever had happened.

Letting himself in the, still unlocked, door, Giles hesitated. “Hello? Boys, are you here?”

When no voice responded, he pulled the sword he carried free from its sheath, walking carefully through the apartment to the cracked bedroom door, light spilling from the small opening to cut through the darkness of the hall like a knife. Indeed the entire apartment was dark and still, no noise from the radio or TV to liven the place up.

Moving quietly, wondering if something or someone had captured one of the two boys, he used his free hand to slowly edge the door open.

Unfortunately for him, he was human, and he was soon in the bathroom losing the contents of his stomach. No wonder Spike didn’t want the girls there.

Taking a deep breath, then wishing he hadn’t as the smell of fresh blood assaulted him and set his stomach to trembling again, he washed his face off and ventured back into the room.

Xander was slouched in a chair, apparently fastened there by his belt, each arm hanging off to his sides, his hands hovering above two matching large buckets. His normally tanned skin was pale; those expressive brown eyes, always so full of whatever emotion he was experiencing, were clouded. A long, deep crimson slash marred each forearm, dried blood stained his work callused hands. Both buckets were full of his own blood.

He saw the wickedly sharp blade on the ground in front of Xander’s feet, free of blood, and wondered what had happened to Spike. Had he caused this in a fit of blood rage? It just didn’t seem likely.

Then he realized what he thought was a faded spot on the rug he had stepped on was actually dust that puffed up around his feet when he took a step…no, not dust, ash. A pile of ashes had settled at the base of Xander’s feet.

“Oh good Lord!” Stumbling backwards onto the bed as he realized exactly what, or rather _who_ he had stepped in, Giles focused on breathing, eyes closed to block out what he knew would torture his dreams for years to come.

Feeling something crinkle under his hand, the sword having been dropped back in the bathroom, he looked down, noticing several scraps of paper and one solid piece. It took him a minute to align the pieces, paling as he read and realized what had truly happened. He was afraid to read the solid piece of paper, recognizing the elegant cursive script as that of Spike, or rather William.

~~~

In the end, Giles managed to gather as much of Spike’s ashes as he could into a container before he called the police, unwilling for them to be blown away or ground into the carpet, or even worse, gathered as evidence that would in no way help the situation.

He answered all the questions posed to him, showed the officers the two notes. Suggested Spike might have been in look of a cliff or a bridge to take a walk off of.

He called the girls.

Xander’s funeral was small, the Scoobies and Angel’s team, dragged there by a sobbing Cordelia, and his parents. They didn’t understand why Xander would want to be cremated, but since it was cheaper, they didn’t complain. The rest couldn’t explain that it was so nothing could happen to his body at some point down the line. They didn’t stay long either. None of the others were surprised.

After the ceremony, when Giles was curled up in his chair with a large glass of Scotch, he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping unaided anytime soon, he pulled out Spike’s letter to read once more, the pieces of Xander’s taped together on the back.

_I am the cause of my love’s death. I always thought I would be in some way, but not like this. Of all the horrors I’ve seen or caused, this has been the worst. I killed a good man, a true white knight, and I did it unknowingly._

_He was the light in my darkness, his very smile bathing me in warmth like the noonday sun. He saw me for me, not just Spike, but William too, and he embraced us both. His heart was so big, he loved so very much, and he gave that love to me. A monster. I lived up to that word today. Never have I felt so very much the monster as I did when I read his words._

_Through my lies I killed him. Through my indifference I killed him. But not quickly, painlessly, no, I dragged out this pain in him over weeks. I saw the signs, but I didn’t want to acknowledge the cause._

_With the lack of a few words, I killed him, my love, my pet, my Xander. I’m left with only one option, for I feel I cannot go on without him. I lived through the loss of Angel and Druscilla. I can not live through this._

_I_ _promised him I’d take him traveling one day, show him England, where I grew up. Yet another promise I’ve broken. I ask you, Rupert, to please help me with this one last request, take us home._

_I cannot be forgiven for what I have caused, but please know that I will love him for eternity, I only wish I could have told him so one more time._

_William_

Giles set down his empty glass and picked up a scrap of paper. One of the officers had found it under the chair Xander had been sitting on, apparently the fan had blown it out of sight.

_After all this I find I still love you, Spike. Nothing will ever change that, but I can’t live with this pain. Maybe I’ll find you again in a different life, maybe then we’ll work out. I know I’ll still love you even then, even if it takes forever._

Giles taped the last bit of note underneath Spike’s last words. How one misunderstanding could cause so much to go so wrong… He hoped the two would find each other again, sent up prayers to every deity he could think of, which was quite a few, as silent tears ran down his face.

Picking up a carved wooden box, he removed the lid and stared down at the ashes inside. He’d held onto the box for Xander, something the boy had made with his own hands, both of them acknowledging the depressing nature of it, but knowing its necessity in the life they led. He’d had the mortuary combine Spike’s and Xander’s ashes, together in death as they had been in life.

Holding the combined note over the opening, he lit the corner on fire, watching as it crumbled to ashes to mix with the ashes of the owners. A last note of love from them both, to them both. Sealing the box for the last time after the letter had burned completely, he set it to the side and picked up the phone book, flipping through it until he found what he was looking for. “Hello? Yes, I’d like to schedule a flight to England.”

~~~

And on two completely different continents, two completely different women from completely different circumstances were giving birth.

 

And somewhere, a deity listened to a prayer.


End file.
